No-One
by The What-If Writer
Summary: ONE-SHOT. "A Long time ago, he'd been Percy. "


_A sort of sibling one-shot to my fic 'An Unhappy Ending' about Tachyon and his past life on Fastoon. Please Review._

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No-One

Emperor Percival Tachyon. The name brought many things to mind when heard by Polaris citizens and those outside the galaxy who knew of him: Dictator, villain, tyrant_, murderer_, **cragmite**.

Cragmite was a word that would jerk anyone's head; well known history of the military, threatening race of crawling creatures bent on power and pain to the innocent. Tachyon was no different. He'd appeared out of know here, a hidden deadliness behind a small stature and voice. A hatred and vengeance feeding the fires of the lust for power that lay deep inside him. No one really knew what went through his head, when he took over the majority of Polaris, who were all taken by surprise. Did he see himself in right? Many would say he had at first, but slowly he began to just not care about morality. Did he knew he was wrong? Did he like that fact? Anyone who met him years later would say so.

Tachyon- and this was no secret- delighted in the pain of his enemies and those he disliked; he marvelled destruction and brutality. Yet, something that surprised his minions and enemies alike, was that sometimes odd little aspects of his personality would shine through ad equally odd moments.

Like talking about one's like of cupcakes when describing fiery slaughter, how he acted like the species he despised were in the wrong. Perhaps he was just insane.

That was really the best answer anyone could give, along with utterly deluded.

At first, he thought what he did was justified. The years he spent gathering his forces with his odd persuasiveness and surprisingly sly wit and knowledge...then the sudden attack on his foster planet, the place that had once been his home...Fastoon.

But no-one with any good or justifiable intentions could watch in delight as the innocent inhabitants, men woman and children alike, fled through the fire and flame for their lives, or disregard the blood spilled on the sandy grounds as buildings were destroyed and last-minute defences crushed like children's castles. So if the cragmite had watched this with glee, and had made it quite clear he had, there was no way any spark of justice was left inside him. If there was any to begin with.

Polaris knew Tachyon was a monster; that he'd killed those who raised him instead of leaving him to die, who'd treated him as one of their children and cared for him. There was no greater monstrosity or betrayal.

Or at least, that of what they knew of. For Polaris didn't suffer like _they_ did.

For there had to have been those he'd been close to, before it all happened.

Long ago, in what seems like a different era, an alternate lifetime, Tachyon hadn't been an emperor nor a monster. He was Percival, a boy raised like many by a few carers in a quiet far of Fastoon's largest city. He hadn't been vile, domineering or bent on harming others.

He'd been Percy.

And he'd been their brother.

Many know not of Raymas Lars; an orphan of an unnamed species, thin and green with brown around the face. Noiseless, reptilian and almost aquatic-looking eyes, he had stood out just as much as Percival on Fastoon before the Cragmite was born.

No one really knew that the day the last cragmite in the universe hatched, Raymas had been there. He'd caught him as he stumbled from the shattered egg and off the table, falling right into the child's arms.

How inseparable they'd been; two outcasts, two 'only one's on the planet. Raymas wasn't as quiet, or stern, or stiff around his little foster brother Percy. Between them was a trust and friendliness neither would show to others. It was more so when...

Ickabar Locksher. A lombax. Every race has its oddball. Found abandoned, he was raised beside the two. And they had been brothers. For years, Raymas would be seen dragging Percy and Ickabar away from the remains of a prank or destructive dare, many would see the two laughing hysterically with each other at the sidelines.

But no-one knew the quieter moments, when four-year old Ickabar would throw his arms around six-year old Percy, crying about how his parents didn't want him, how he wasn't like other lombaxes who could construct things out of metal and tin already, or had bundled himself beside Percy at night after having a nightmare, or he of them with Raymas had it been the other way around.

The tantrums and fights between Percy and Raymas when the eldest brother wouldn't let him go out or ordered him to do homework. The birthdays they shared as brothers, the scary movies they jumped behind the couch together when watching.

No one saw the moments Percy would pull his ears in frustration whenever Ickabar did something awkward or clumsy like singing too loud or tripping over his own feet (or his cragmite brother) Or simultaneously rolled his eyes with Raymas when Ickabar said something silly or fell off a building (luckily they made sure he always wore hoverboots.)

No-one really knew how much Ickabar relied on them- Raymas. And Percy.

So how could anyone understand how the youngest had felt as his brother, one day, shouted at him for no reason he knew off, and disappeared without saying goodbye?

How could anyone comprehend the terror he felt when he found himself alone after Raymas, who had something to do with it, drifted away from him and left soon after?

How could anyone possibly know how it felt, when Ickabar stared through the destruction of his home, through the fire, and see his brother upon a menacing walking throne, ordering the forces further into the slaughter?

No-One.

No-one would ever know how much pain Raymas, the eldest brother, felt whenever he stared over the ruins of his home and was reminded of how he failed. How he failed them both.

No-one would ever if Tachyon ever thought about them; if anyone deserved his wrath, did it have to be them? Did he ever feel regret, or sorrow, or longing for how things where? Did he ever miss his younger brother's often annoying chattering overly cheerful voice? Did he wonder what became of his older brother, who he never saw nor spoke to again?

Did Tachyon, tyrant of Polaris, freeing of the cragmites, menacing and murderous, feel anything when Ickabar had reached out to him, his big brother, with a bloodied, shaking hand and cried out his name?

No-One knows. No One.


End file.
